(Note: At Liam's one year birthday I tried to write down my birth story, but I still remembered so many details it wound up being a short manuscript, literally more than 6 single spaced pages in Word. But I finally put together the somewhat shorter version, and only a year and a half after the actual event. But for what it is worth, I wanted to share my experience)
The day before we went to the hospital was unremarkable. We'd just finished putting Liam's room together. I went to yoga class, we ate pizza with a friend. I woke at 530am the next morning to go to the bathroom. Back in bed I worried my water had broken, because it didnt seem like incontinence should be a sudden problem that struck while laying down after going pee. By 630 I was sure and I called the OB and then curled into a ball on my living room floor sobbing because it was too early: I was only 33 weeks pregnant. To make matters worse, the brakes on our car had failed just the day before, so I had to call my friend Gabrielle (an early riser) to ask if she would drive us to the hospital.
I had to wait in the regular waiting room in L&D and after 30 minutes I sheepishly told the front clerk that I was about to start soaking amniotic fluid through their chairs. I was admitted to the antepardum floor. All I felt were occasional low cramps but they never showed up on the monitors, and I wasn't complaining about pain, so the RN told me it was just “uterine irritability” that was common when the water breaks before contractions start, and that I would just have to weather it for the next 36 hours until I was fully 34 weeks and they induced me.
By 10 pm the low cramps were getting pretty substantial and I was trying to peace out to my natural birth recordings on my iPod while Terry got some rest. The “uterine irritability” was erratic, never regular. I had been told contractions were only really intense for 45-90 seconds at a time, but I had intense episodes that went on for 5 minutes continuously. And they kept getting more intense, but every time I asked the nurse she’d put me on the monitor, it wouldn’t record any contractions, and she would pat my hand like I was some weakling who couldn’t take a little uterine irritability.
I remember looking at the clock at 2:30 am thinking maybe we should call the doula because I didn't want to wake Terry but it was getting intense enough that I didn’t want to go it on my own much longer either. But I didn't want to bother the doula for a little uterine irritability. I woke Terry and he started helping me. I felt sad and doubted myself. I wanted so badly to have an unmedicated birth, but if I was just barely coping with uterine irritability, how could I possibly handle “real” contractions? Finally I realized that if this was not labor, then something was wrong with my baby because there was no way anything but labor should be this intense. I told Terry that if I had to go through another 24 hours of this plus “real” labor, I would need to take the drugs. I forced my RN to get me an OB. She brought the head nurse who still couldn’t get any reading on the contractions monitor, but took one look at me and said, “well, you are behaving like a woman in labor.” She brought the OB and he announced I was over 8 cm dilated and we were heading to L&D. That pronouncement was like magic: it transformed the intensity I had been coping with from the drudgery of enduring unnecessary uterine irritability, to the real productive work of labor.
They wheeled me up to L&D, I got on the bed on all fours and the doc told me I was at 9.5 cm with just a little lip left. I realized I was well into transition because I didn’t care about being naked, all I wanted was for the annoying hospital gown to be off me. Nothing I had been told prepared me for what pushing was like. People said it was an “urge” but this was a force of nature. I had absolutely no choice in the matter. A huge wave of pushing would come over me and every muscle in my body was engaged in the coordinated act of giving birth. I remember the nurse telling me to hold my breath and counting to ten, but I serenely ignored her and went about what felt right to me. I didn't feel helpless; I was sure my body knew exactly what to do, so in between those colossal pushes I breathed in deep measured breaths and concentrated on not letting Liam slip back. I was only in L&D for 20 minutes, and I pushed four times before he was born. Though he was a little more than 6 weeks premature, his APGAR scores were high enough that I was allowed to hold him for 2 minutes before they took him off to the NICU. Because of policy, I was forced to stay in the L&D room for 2 hours (without him). I made the RN very nervous by bouncing eagerly & energetically around the room. I felt fantastic and all I wanted in the world was to go see my little baby up in the NICU. Liam developed breathing and some heart problems and had to stay in the NICU for the longest 16 days of my life, but now he is a big healthy and joyful child.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
A year and a half!!
Liam is a year and a half old. Part of me cannot believe it, and part of me feels like he's been in our lives forever, surely longer than a year and a half.
When I look in his face I imagine that I can already see the contours of the face he will have as a boy and a man, because he is already such a little boy. I still call him my baby, but really he is a little boy, a little person. Watching him constantly evolve and develop his own individual preferences and mannerisms...his own personhood, has been the most magical aspect of motherhood so far.
It isn't all upside, and before I get incredibly mushy, I suppose I should record the trying moments for posterity. For the last week or so he has been really into pinching. Hard. And it turns out that becoming a little boy is the dawn of discipline. He got his first few brief timeouts while we were staying with the McDonnells for intentionally pinching someone hard enough to hurt immediately after being told not to do that. I wrestle with whether to try to ignore the pinching (sometimes physically impossible) to try to avoid a strong reaction that might encourage the behavior, or to tell him it hurts, makes the person sad and that he may not do it. That hands are for helping and being kind. He knows what "gentle touch" is, and if I ask, "Can you show me gentle touch?" he will reach out and gently pet the person. He knows, but still he pinches. Gar! Though I wouldn't trade it, it was certainy easier when our only jobs were to feed him and love him and change diapers. Along with becoming a person, is the added job of trying to figure out the right way to guide his actions and interactions with others to help him become a kind loving person who is a joy for others to be around.
He has certainly begun to test boundaries, and it can be exhausting to be consistent. We are trying to explain once, and follow up with action rather than nagging words that start to lose meaning. So once I tell him he may not climb on the stools in the kitchen and I take him down to the floor by his toys, or put him on the blue climbing block where he can more safely stand to look at what we are doing on the kitchen counter. But the next time he climbs the stool, I just have to drop whatever I'm doing, go to him and quietly but firmly take him off the stool and put him on the floor or climbing block. Again and again and again, for the next 107 times that day.
He loves climbing the stools in the kitchen that are too tall and wobbly to be safe. He loves standing or bouncing on chairs that are only safe to sit on. At Grandma McDonnell's house he decided he liked to put his toes on the table. And the pinching. And he seems to have a thing where he slowly bull-dozes smaller kids over in a way that doesn't seem overtly aggressive, but results in a littler kid back-peddling bewildered and therefore isn't good. We pick our battles. We aim for consistency. We do what we can. And we are exceedingly grateful that we get to practice for at least a few years before we have to do anything so complicated as have a talk with him about (gulp) safe sex. Right now getting him to stop pinching feels like the Mount Everest of parenting.
Like any toddler, his tastes are sometimes fickle. One day he may love blueberries more than life itself, and the next day if they are put on his tray he will smash them all up and swipe his hands across the tray to send them flying overboard. But lately he really can't get enough of watermelon and pickles. While visiting the McDonnells he really started grooving on salad for the first time. Turns out the key is tasty dressing. He leaned over and grabbed some salad off Grandma's plate and the next thing we knew he was shoveling lettuce into his maw faster than he could chew. He is a very well rounded eater, just as likely to reach for asparagus or broccoli as fruits or carbs.
He loves books, and his hands-down favorite right now is "where is Masie." Given the choice, he always picks to read that one, sometimes going to get it if it is not one of the choices offered to him. It is a book about a mouse that goes to hide, and on each page you lift a flap to see if masie is hiding there, but "Oops! not here!" you find one of her friends instead. On the last page it says "knock knock" and shows a little red door. When you open the door, there's masie! Liam likes to knock with his fist on the door when I read "knock knock."
Today while we were in the room he brought me a diaper and I very extravagantly said (and signed) Thank you! And then he brought me another and I thanked him again. And after a pause it occurred to me that he might need a diaper change. Lo and behold, he had pooped his diaper. I'm hopeful that bringing me a diaper was him communicating that he needed a diaper change, and part of his growing awareness of all thigns diapering that may help us with potty training down the road.
His communication has really taken off in leaps and bounds. June was really a transformative month where, for the first time, Terry and I both became convinced that he was really showing signs of receptive language: or in plain non-clinical terms, he understood english. Now, if you say, "go get the book" he goes and gets a book. If you say, "bring your shoes to Daddy" he does.
He has started to pick signs up quickly. He now know sand regularly uses the signs for eat, milk, more, bath, sleep, play, thank you, please. He started trying to sign "help" (one flat hand 'lifting' the other fisted hand) just today. His signs are still approximations, so "eat", which is supposed to be bringing the finger tips together to the mouth like you are eating a grape, looks more like him punching himself in the jaw. And he also uses that sign for when he wants to drink, having never taken to any of three possible signs for drinks we've tried (drink, cup, or water).
He says ball "bah!", button "buh!", and mama very clearly and pretty often. We used the tip from the speech therapist to create interesting word patterns, and taught him to say "GO!" We say "ready, set" and then pause and he says "go!" (only more like gah!) and then we swing him between our hands while walking, or lift him up into the air like a plane. He will sometimes say more "moh," book "booh"and dada. Can you tell he's pretty big on the starting consonant sound, not much for whole words? Occasionally he busts out with something that sounds very much like the right word or phrase (like "read book") at the appropriate time (while walking towards me holding out a book), but doesn't repeat it regularly or often enough to be sure. By the same uncertain measure, he may actually know 10 or so gutteral Dutch words that he uses when he's giving me a lecture about something. They mean nothing to me, but he says them so seriously it is nearly comical.
Seeing that he truly understands and processes language is an incredible relief. It has erased nearly all of my concerns about his language delay. And it is also a selfish joy. Before we were like two people dancing in the same room, but not necessarily dancing together. Now I can communicate with him and it makes me feel like it is possible to engage him and interact with him on a whole new level. Like now I can know my son, and he can know me.
Speaking of dancing, this baby loves to dance. He will spontaneously start dancing when music is on, or if you ask him "Let's dance Liam". Mostly he does deep knee bends in place, mixed together with a few quick staccato prancing footsteps, and occasionally a few times of turning around in circles. We're exposing him to a broad range of things, from Motown and hiphop to African music and country. Whatever the music, dancing usually makes him break out into a broad grin, and I like to see that, like me, dancing is a source of happiness for him.
In fairness, everything seems to be a source of happiness for him. He especially loves being around other people. Terry and I mentioned today that as best as we can think, he may have gone through a week of stranger danger. But generally when he sees strangers he wants to wave at them, or go right up to them where they sit or stand to see what they are doing. Or point out his little finger at them to see if he can shock them with his magic "buzzy" finger (a game Grandma McDonnell invented).
We had lunch today with an old friend of Terry's, and after spending an hour with Liam, she said, "He really is a joyful child." Which I thought was about the best thing a parent can hear.
He can now climb out of his pack and play, so we had to devise creative ways to create a safe place for him to sleep while we were visiting Grandma and Pop McDonnell. We wound up putting an inflatable mattress for him at the end of a hall by our bedroom and putting a tall baby gate in front of it. But he was still having a hard time falling asleep in the unfamiliar environment. And because the inflatable mattress was big enough and on the ground, I could crawl in there with him and lay down next to him.
He would turn around a few times like a cat settling in, and then he found just the perfect spot with his head resting in the nook of my arm, his back cozied against me so I could feel he sweet slow breathing and nestle my nose into his sweet soft blond baby curls in the back of his head just like I used to when he was a tiny newborn. One afternoon I stayed with him like that for almost an hour, just enjoying the closeness of being with him while he slept peacefully. He stirred a bit when he woke, but he didn't cry at all. When he saw that I was still there next to him, he lavished me with such a smile it lit my heart on fire. He beamed. For such a smile I would be willing to sleep on the floor next to his crib or let him into our bed all the time. I'd never be well rested, but man I'd be happy.
I suppose I have come to realize how fleeting this time with my baby is, that he is always growing older and becoming more independent. I love that independence and growing sense of Liam as an individual little human. But I also treasure these soft small moments where he is wholly my baby and there is nothing in the world so much as being quiet curled up together.
When I look in his face I imagine that I can already see the contours of the face he will have as a boy and a man, because he is already such a little boy. I still call him my baby, but really he is a little boy, a little person. Watching him constantly evolve and develop his own individual preferences and mannerisms...his own personhood, has been the most magical aspect of motherhood so far.
It isn't all upside, and before I get incredibly mushy, I suppose I should record the trying moments for posterity. For the last week or so he has been really into pinching. Hard. And it turns out that becoming a little boy is the dawn of discipline. He got his first few brief timeouts while we were staying with the McDonnells for intentionally pinching someone hard enough to hurt immediately after being told not to do that. I wrestle with whether to try to ignore the pinching (sometimes physically impossible) to try to avoid a strong reaction that might encourage the behavior, or to tell him it hurts, makes the person sad and that he may not do it. That hands are for helping and being kind. He knows what "gentle touch" is, and if I ask, "Can you show me gentle touch?" he will reach out and gently pet the person. He knows, but still he pinches. Gar! Though I wouldn't trade it, it was certainy easier when our only jobs were to feed him and love him and change diapers. Along with becoming a person, is the added job of trying to figure out the right way to guide his actions and interactions with others to help him become a kind loving person who is a joy for others to be around.
He has certainly begun to test boundaries, and it can be exhausting to be consistent. We are trying to explain once, and follow up with action rather than nagging words that start to lose meaning. So once I tell him he may not climb on the stools in the kitchen and I take him down to the floor by his toys, or put him on the blue climbing block where he can more safely stand to look at what we are doing on the kitchen counter. But the next time he climbs the stool, I just have to drop whatever I'm doing, go to him and quietly but firmly take him off the stool and put him on the floor or climbing block. Again and again and again, for the next 107 times that day.
He loves climbing the stools in the kitchen that are too tall and wobbly to be safe. He loves standing or bouncing on chairs that are only safe to sit on. At Grandma McDonnell's house he decided he liked to put his toes on the table. And the pinching. And he seems to have a thing where he slowly bull-dozes smaller kids over in a way that doesn't seem overtly aggressive, but results in a littler kid back-peddling bewildered and therefore isn't good. We pick our battles. We aim for consistency. We do what we can. And we are exceedingly grateful that we get to practice for at least a few years before we have to do anything so complicated as have a talk with him about (gulp) safe sex. Right now getting him to stop pinching feels like the Mount Everest of parenting.
Like any toddler, his tastes are sometimes fickle. One day he may love blueberries more than life itself, and the next day if they are put on his tray he will smash them all up and swipe his hands across the tray to send them flying overboard. But lately he really can't get enough of watermelon and pickles. While visiting the McDonnells he really started grooving on salad for the first time. Turns out the key is tasty dressing. He leaned over and grabbed some salad off Grandma's plate and the next thing we knew he was shoveling lettuce into his maw faster than he could chew. He is a very well rounded eater, just as likely to reach for asparagus or broccoli as fruits or carbs.
He loves books, and his hands-down favorite right now is "where is Masie." Given the choice, he always picks to read that one, sometimes going to get it if it is not one of the choices offered to him. It is a book about a mouse that goes to hide, and on each page you lift a flap to see if masie is hiding there, but "Oops! not here!" you find one of her friends instead. On the last page it says "knock knock" and shows a little red door. When you open the door, there's masie! Liam likes to knock with his fist on the door when I read "knock knock."
Today while we were in the room he brought me a diaper and I very extravagantly said (and signed) Thank you! And then he brought me another and I thanked him again. And after a pause it occurred to me that he might need a diaper change. Lo and behold, he had pooped his diaper. I'm hopeful that bringing me a diaper was him communicating that he needed a diaper change, and part of his growing awareness of all thigns diapering that may help us with potty training down the road.
His communication has really taken off in leaps and bounds. June was really a transformative month where, for the first time, Terry and I both became convinced that he was really showing signs of receptive language: or in plain non-clinical terms, he understood english. Now, if you say, "go get the book" he goes and gets a book. If you say, "bring your shoes to Daddy" he does.
He has started to pick signs up quickly. He now know sand regularly uses the signs for eat, milk, more, bath, sleep, play, thank you, please. He started trying to sign "help" (one flat hand 'lifting' the other fisted hand) just today. His signs are still approximations, so "eat", which is supposed to be bringing the finger tips together to the mouth like you are eating a grape, looks more like him punching himself in the jaw. And he also uses that sign for when he wants to drink, having never taken to any of three possible signs for drinks we've tried (drink, cup, or water).
He says ball "bah!", button "buh!", and mama very clearly and pretty often. We used the tip from the speech therapist to create interesting word patterns, and taught him to say "GO!" We say "ready, set" and then pause and he says "go!" (only more like gah!) and then we swing him between our hands while walking, or lift him up into the air like a plane. He will sometimes say more "moh," book "booh"and dada. Can you tell he's pretty big on the starting consonant sound, not much for whole words? Occasionally he busts out with something that sounds very much like the right word or phrase (like "read book") at the appropriate time (while walking towards me holding out a book), but doesn't repeat it regularly or often enough to be sure. By the same uncertain measure, he may actually know 10 or so gutteral Dutch words that he uses when he's giving me a lecture about something. They mean nothing to me, but he says them so seriously it is nearly comical.
Seeing that he truly understands and processes language is an incredible relief. It has erased nearly all of my concerns about his language delay. And it is also a selfish joy. Before we were like two people dancing in the same room, but not necessarily dancing together. Now I can communicate with him and it makes me feel like it is possible to engage him and interact with him on a whole new level. Like now I can know my son, and he can know me.
Speaking of dancing, this baby loves to dance. He will spontaneously start dancing when music is on, or if you ask him "Let's dance Liam". Mostly he does deep knee bends in place, mixed together with a few quick staccato prancing footsteps, and occasionally a few times of turning around in circles. We're exposing him to a broad range of things, from Motown and hiphop to African music and country. Whatever the music, dancing usually makes him break out into a broad grin, and I like to see that, like me, dancing is a source of happiness for him.
In fairness, everything seems to be a source of happiness for him. He especially loves being around other people. Terry and I mentioned today that as best as we can think, he may have gone through a week of stranger danger. But generally when he sees strangers he wants to wave at them, or go right up to them where they sit or stand to see what they are doing. Or point out his little finger at them to see if he can shock them with his magic "buzzy" finger (a game Grandma McDonnell invented).
We had lunch today with an old friend of Terry's, and after spending an hour with Liam, she said, "He really is a joyful child." Which I thought was about the best thing a parent can hear.
He can now climb out of his pack and play, so we had to devise creative ways to create a safe place for him to sleep while we were visiting Grandma and Pop McDonnell. We wound up putting an inflatable mattress for him at the end of a hall by our bedroom and putting a tall baby gate in front of it. But he was still having a hard time falling asleep in the unfamiliar environment. And because the inflatable mattress was big enough and on the ground, I could crawl in there with him and lay down next to him.
He would turn around a few times like a cat settling in, and then he found just the perfect spot with his head resting in the nook of my arm, his back cozied against me so I could feel he sweet slow breathing and nestle my nose into his sweet soft blond baby curls in the back of his head just like I used to when he was a tiny newborn. One afternoon I stayed with him like that for almost an hour, just enjoying the closeness of being with him while he slept peacefully. He stirred a bit when he woke, but he didn't cry at all. When he saw that I was still there next to him, he lavished me with such a smile it lit my heart on fire. He beamed. For such a smile I would be willing to sleep on the floor next to his crib or let him into our bed all the time. I'd never be well rested, but man I'd be happy.
I suppose I have come to realize how fleeting this time with my baby is, that he is always growing older and becoming more independent. I love that independence and growing sense of Liam as an individual little human. But I also treasure these soft small moments where he is wholly my baby and there is nothing in the world so much as being quiet curled up together.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Accidental peekaboo
This morning I was sitting with Liam on the bathroom floor, reading books to him while he sat on the potty waiting to do his morning "duty." We happened to be reading a peekaboo book. On the last page, it reads, "Where is the baby?" next to a picture of a baby hiding her eyes. You are supposed to lift the flap and reveal the baby's face. When I read, "Where is the baby?" Liam took it as his cue to hide, so he hid his own eyes behind his hands and peeked out at me. (Usually when we play peekaboo and he hides, I either say "Where is Liam?" or "Where is the baby?" and he hides and then peeks out.)
It was just a very sweet little moment. And more confirmation that within the last two weeks or so he has really made great strides in his receptive (understanding) language skills.
It was just a very sweet little moment. And more confirmation that within the last two weeks or so he has really made great strides in his receptive (understanding) language skills.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Liam gets sick, eats dirt, and cheats at ladder golf
Liam is a delight. Even when he's not feeling well, or perhaps especially then, his sweet personality shines.
On Friday he was exposed to pink eye from his gal pal Cora. She didn't develop symptoms until Saturday, but by then he'd already been exposed. Saturday and Sunday all he had was a snotty nose, and he wasn't sleeping well. Friday morning he woke up crabby and stayed crabby, alternately whining and crying for most of the morning. It just wasn't like him. At one point he climbed up on my lap, and sat a little ways out facing towards me. He leaned in and put his head down against my chest. We swayed together and I stroked his head and patted his little diapered bottom and sang to him. Mostly campfire songs from Camp Anokijig. We stayed like that for 15 or 20 minutes. It was a heart stoppingly beautiful moment. The kind of moment that I wish I could distill in a bottle so that years from now I can still feel its essence.
I wound up taking him to see the doctor, and by then he'd spiked a 101 fever and had goop oozing out of his eye. Apart from the NICU, this was the first time in his whole life where he was really truly sick, rather than just a run of the mill runny nose. He clearly felt awful, looked like a tired baby zombie, and all he wanted to do was snuggle. I would read him a book or make a silly face and he would smile at me, a little for the joke, and a little because he was grateful to be smiling.
We got him on some medication to take care of a double ear infection, sinus infection, and pink eye. Poor little man. Immediately he started sleeping better and the next day his mood was already improved. Because of the contagious infection both here and at Cora's house, it means no childcare until the infections are all cleared up. Terry has been great about splitting time with me so we can both get work done. But it also means that we get to both have some concentrated Liam time as well, which is also a wonderful blessing.
Today, still on the mend, we had a lovely day together. In the morning before his nap I was outside trying to finish planting a little bed I was putting together in a partially shady area of our backyard. He loves to see what we're up to and to participate in whatever Terry or I are doing. So he toddled over the grass and sat down next to me. I was using my garden "claw" to turn up the dirt, so when I set it down, he picked it up and started raking it over the dirt as well. Half the time he had it upside down, but he had the basic idea. He saw me working with my gardening gloves to pull up all the violet roots in the dirt bed, so he started to mimic me by patting the ground with his hands and digging through it.
He pulled up a small ball of our thick clay soil. I am generally inclined to encourage him to explore the world around him with his senses, and he was just a mostly naked baby wearing only a diaper and sunscreen, so I wasn't really concerned with him getting dirty. But before I knew what was happening, he'd popped the dirty ball into his mouth and was happily chomping on it! I couldn't help myself, I started laughing and took off my gloves so I could try to fish the remnants out of his mouth. Still laughing, I was trying to explain to him that we don't eat dirt. I would have thought it was self evident, because I can't imagine that dirt was very tasty, but right in the middle of my explanation he grabbed another ball of dirt and lightening fast popped it into his mouth and started chewing again. I fished it out again and took the muddy mouthed baby inside to rinse his mouth out.
Later in the evening, after Terry got home from work, we all spent some time out on the back deck. The evening was just spectacular weather. The baby has been better about talking again, so he regularly says "mama" and "ball" and it seems as though he may be saying "button" again, and possibly also "bump" (for fist bump, a little trick Cora's mom Ariana taught him). Terry and I started playing with the new ladder golf that we have set up on the back deck. Liam loved to take the balls (two balls attached with a string) and hang them around his neck and then parade around the deck proudly proclaiming "Ball! ball!" When Terry or I would throw the balls at the ladder, he would toddle over all ready to remove them. After he'd seen us throw them once or twice, he picked up a pair of the balls, toddled over to the ladder, and carefully hung them on the second rung. I joked with him that he was cheating by just putting them up there. But Terry and I spent a few minutes gushing to each other about how cute he was.
On Friday he was exposed to pink eye from his gal pal Cora. She didn't develop symptoms until Saturday, but by then he'd already been exposed. Saturday and Sunday all he had was a snotty nose, and he wasn't sleeping well. Friday morning he woke up crabby and stayed crabby, alternately whining and crying for most of the morning. It just wasn't like him. At one point he climbed up on my lap, and sat a little ways out facing towards me. He leaned in and put his head down against my chest. We swayed together and I stroked his head and patted his little diapered bottom and sang to him. Mostly campfire songs from Camp Anokijig. We stayed like that for 15 or 20 minutes. It was a heart stoppingly beautiful moment. The kind of moment that I wish I could distill in a bottle so that years from now I can still feel its essence.
I wound up taking him to see the doctor, and by then he'd spiked a 101 fever and had goop oozing out of his eye. Apart from the NICU, this was the first time in his whole life where he was really truly sick, rather than just a run of the mill runny nose. He clearly felt awful, looked like a tired baby zombie, and all he wanted to do was snuggle. I would read him a book or make a silly face and he would smile at me, a little for the joke, and a little because he was grateful to be smiling.
We got him on some medication to take care of a double ear infection, sinus infection, and pink eye. Poor little man. Immediately he started sleeping better and the next day his mood was already improved. Because of the contagious infection both here and at Cora's house, it means no childcare until the infections are all cleared up. Terry has been great about splitting time with me so we can both get work done. But it also means that we get to both have some concentrated Liam time as well, which is also a wonderful blessing.
Today, still on the mend, we had a lovely day together. In the morning before his nap I was outside trying to finish planting a little bed I was putting together in a partially shady area of our backyard. He loves to see what we're up to and to participate in whatever Terry or I are doing. So he toddled over the grass and sat down next to me. I was using my garden "claw" to turn up the dirt, so when I set it down, he picked it up and started raking it over the dirt as well. Half the time he had it upside down, but he had the basic idea. He saw me working with my gardening gloves to pull up all the violet roots in the dirt bed, so he started to mimic me by patting the ground with his hands and digging through it.
He pulled up a small ball of our thick clay soil. I am generally inclined to encourage him to explore the world around him with his senses, and he was just a mostly naked baby wearing only a diaper and sunscreen, so I wasn't really concerned with him getting dirty. But before I knew what was happening, he'd popped the dirty ball into his mouth and was happily chomping on it! I couldn't help myself, I started laughing and took off my gloves so I could try to fish the remnants out of his mouth. Still laughing, I was trying to explain to him that we don't eat dirt. I would have thought it was self evident, because I can't imagine that dirt was very tasty, but right in the middle of my explanation he grabbed another ball of dirt and lightening fast popped it into his mouth and started chewing again. I fished it out again and took the muddy mouthed baby inside to rinse his mouth out.
Later in the evening, after Terry got home from work, we all spent some time out on the back deck. The evening was just spectacular weather. The baby has been better about talking again, so he regularly says "mama" and "ball" and it seems as though he may be saying "button" again, and possibly also "bump" (for fist bump, a little trick Cora's mom Ariana taught him). Terry and I started playing with the new ladder golf that we have set up on the back deck. Liam loved to take the balls (two balls attached with a string) and hang them around his neck and then parade around the deck proudly proclaiming "Ball! ball!" When Terry or I would throw the balls at the ladder, he would toddle over all ready to remove them. After he'd seen us throw them once or twice, he picked up a pair of the balls, toddled over to the ladder, and carefully hung them on the second rung. I joked with him that he was cheating by just putting them up there. But Terry and I spent a few minutes gushing to each other about how cute he was.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Easter Day with Grandma and Grandpa Schultz
Easter was a very nice, low key day. We went to church with my parents and spent time together before we had to fly back to Nashville.
Liam had been demonstrating such intense interest in our vibrating toothbrushes that we got him a kiddy one of his own for Easter
We went for Easter brunch at my parent's church. Liam wasted no time crawling around the little play gym they had, and making friends with an older girl who quite sweetly took him down the slide as often as he wanted
Playing on the gym gives Liam crazy hair just before church
Their church has a great soundproof childrens room where you can see the service
Liam was determined to unload all the toys from the big toy bin at church
Back home with Grandma and Grandpa
Liam giving Mama some snuggles
Getting friendly with Harley the dog
After changing out of his church clothes, Liam plays with Grandma. How does this triangle fit in here?
With great persuasion, we get the bunny ears on him. Briefly.
Learning about being gentle when petting Harley
Liam had been demonstrating such intense interest in our vibrating toothbrushes that we got him a kiddy one of his own for Easter
We went for Easter brunch at my parent's church. Liam wasted no time crawling around the little play gym they had, and making friends with an older girl who quite sweetly took him down the slide as often as he wanted
Playing on the gym gives Liam crazy hair just before church
Their church has a great soundproof childrens room where you can see the service
Liam was determined to unload all the toys from the big toy bin at church
Back home with Grandma and Grandpa
Liam giving Mama some snuggles
Getting friendly with Harley the dog
After changing out of his church clothes, Liam plays with Grandma. How does this triangle fit in here?
With great persuasion, we get the bunny ears on him. Briefly.
Learning about being gentle when petting Harley
Getting an Easter Basket
This year Liam's Easter basket was put together special for him by his Aunt Robyn. It was a completely sweet surprise when she came up the walkway with a stunning basket full of thoughtful things for Liam.
Liam wastes no time exploring his basket of goodies. It included some delicious organic yogurt melts, plastic eggs with goldfish crackers in them, and some organic baby smoothies (which came in real handy on the flight).
After shaking the eggs and popping all their contents out on the lawn, he was interested in the edible pink "grass" at the bottom of the basket
I love how he looks like a farmer chewing a blade of grass in this one
Grandma's keys are not nearly as tasty
Looking sassy in Aunt Robyn's glasses
Liam wastes no time exploring his basket of goodies. It included some delicious organic yogurt melts, plastic eggs with goldfish crackers in them, and some organic baby smoothies (which came in real handy on the flight).
After shaking the eggs and popping all their contents out on the lawn, he was interested in the edible pink "grass" at the bottom of the basket
I love how he looks like a farmer chewing a blade of grass in this one
Grandma's keys are not nearly as tasty
Looking sassy in Aunt Robyn's glasses
Visiting Grandma and Grandpa Schultz
After we finished up in Evanston, we took the train up to Wisconsin to spend the rest of the weekend with my parents for Easter. Liam and my parents have a mutual love affair going, so they pretty much spent the whole time loving on each other. It really makes my heart sing to see my mother playing with Liam.
Playing with Grandma with pots and pans
Raiding Grandma's well ordered pantry
Grandma gave me a frozen yogurt ice cream sandwich and it was delicious
Then we took the dog for a walk and I helped!
We went to a park with slides that were just my size! Wheeee!
The park had cool rocking cars. I took a blue sports car for a ride.
Hanging out with Grandma and Grandpa
Playing with Grandma with pots and pans
Raiding Grandma's well ordered pantry
Grandma gave me a frozen yogurt ice cream sandwich and it was delicious
Then we took the dog for a walk and I helped!We went to a park with slides that were just my size! Wheeee!
The park had cool rocking cars. I took a blue sports car for a ride.
Hanging out with Grandma and Grandpa
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